


Breezes

by starduchess



Series: Mediterranean Manipulations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Food Kink, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-10
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/pseuds/starduchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Astoria want to ingrain themselves with the Potters.  Harry has plans of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breezes

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** slash, PWP, DH+ep compliant, infidelity, bondage, dub-con, anal, rimming, kink: erogenous zones, kink: chile oil  
>  **Beta:** by [](http://lauredhel3019.livejournal.com/profile)[**lauredhel3019**](http://lauredhel3019.livejournal.com/) \- Thanks, sweetie!  
>  **Prompt:** Written as birthday and thank-you gift for [](http://keppiehed.livejournal.com/profile)[**keppiehed**](http://keppiehed.livejournal.com/) based on her cyan-coloured icon that says "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

An audible pop resounds from the front entryway of the villa as the Potter and Malfoy wives Disapparate off on their shopping trip. They will be gone all day today having a splendid time chatting it up and spending loads of money, something to which Ginny still wasn't accustomed. Astoria and she aren't the best of friends, but after the war the Malfoys have at least tried to be civil with the Weasleys and especially Harry Potter. Of course, part of that is due to their continuing greed for power that the Golden Foursome wields, but Harry doesn't mind if it keeps them all in check. Truth be told, Harry has plans of his own.

Twitching his eyebrows and grinning gleefully, he turns his attention to the outside veranda where one blond Slytherin is already sunning himself. His pale skin is smooth as silk except for the cuts from the Sectumsempra curse and it glows in the mid-morning sun. The Mediterranean breezes play with the platinum locks like a musician's fingers along a keyboard, bringing over the saltiness of the sea and Draco's unique, heady cologne. It teases his senses. Just admiring those muscled shoulders, chest and abs leaves Harry rock hard.

He saunters over to the other man and pours himself a Firewhiskey-laced lemonade from the pitcher on the side table. "You know we're not in England right now."

"Unless you are going to say something of importance, Potter, go harass someone else. I was planning on enjoying the quiet, for once."

Harry snorts. "She likes to talk, huh?"

"Something like that, yes," Draco sneers.

"I just meant that the sun's a lot more direct here and you should think about putting on sunscreen. Wouldn't want you to burn."

The other man gives him a withering gaze. "You're showing your Muggle upbringing again, Potter. There is a perfectly good spell for protecting my aristocratic skin, not that that should concern you overly much." He eyes him speculatively. "Now, sod off."

 _Ah, now that's where you're entirely wrong, Draco. I don't want you to burn, at least, not in that way. It would clash with the other I have planned for you._ Raising his hands in a truce, Harry smiles at him. He takes a step back and another to one side, deliberately getting into the best light. First placing his drink on the table, he grabs his yellow T-shirt and pulls it over his head revealing a greatly honed physique, his years of training under the Auror division evident in the tanned body. Slowly he stretches upward, like a cat, extending his arms up to the sky, his back arching right then left as if trying to work out a kink. He hopes Draco is admiring the view.

Sighing slightly, Harry takes his spirits and reclines in another lounge chair, intent on catching up with some light reading--the gay/bi-fan magazine _Quiddilicious!_ by the looks of it. He really does hope Draco is noticing.

After some time in leisurely silence, Potter decides to proceed to Step 2 and challenges his old nemesis to a game of Catch the Snitch.

Draco gives him a disdainful look but his eyes sparkle with mirth. "Only if you want a thrashing, Potter. Wouldn't want to return you to the Ministry broken in half like an old broom. Whatever would Kingsley say."

Harry, however, is not perturbed. "Probably arrest you on the spot. But I practice with Ginny weekly, so no worries on my health."

"And what about mine? You sounded alarmed enough with the sun earlier," Draco retorts. Harry watches that cute little corner of his mouth quirk up and longs to taste, to tease.

"Oh, I've heard Astoria report that you give Scorpius pointers in the air, so you'll be okay. Right. Let's head out."

The warm air surrounds them as they sail off around the sea with the Golden Snitch racing off in every possible direction. Draco looks positively marvelous, a pale Adonis with steel-glinted eyes, a fierce aliveness that thrills the Saviour into performing aerial flips and twirls, much to the other's annoyance but it does keep him paying attention.

After several bouts of that, Harry winning twice and Draco once, the men call off the game. It's nearing lunchtime by all accounts, so Harry suggests they take a swim to cool off before the food comes. Discretely he stares at the expanse of flesh before him as water glides over the sleek skin. The blond slides through the pool like a water snake, graceful and quick. His body heat rises and he is glad for the late-spring chilliness, otherwise, how in the world is he going to get through the meal?

House-elves serve a light affair of baked rosemary chicken, sautéed asparagus and angel-hair pasta served with a splash of chile oil, along with a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Draco eyes the morsels hungrily. The two fall into easy conversation, the old animosity falling away. Potter surreptitiously glances at Draco's features while they speak, most noticeably his Cupid's mouth and tongue as he takes food off his fork, Harry imagining him doing that to his prick which was starting to rise below the view of the table, and his Adam's apple as he swallows, Harry's libido hoping to bite and suck that bulging organ (and other organs, too).

When lunch is finished, not quick enough in his opinion, the black-haired hero suggests a nice nap in the hammocks set up between palm trees. Draco nods approval.

As the other man begins to relax, Harry goes over Step 3. Yes, this will do nicely.

Quick as a wink, he rearranges the two hammocks into a mid-air suspension swing, the blond spread-eagled within seconds.

"What the bloody hell? Potter, help ..." but one look at the smirk and the mischievous green eyes tells him who orchestrated this. "If you don't release me, ...."

"Right. Don't worry; I'll help, and you're not even halfway upset about this, I can tell." It's true. Draco isn't even trying to struggle against the bonds. "I know you want to get close to me, Malfoy, so here's your chance. Try to enjoy it."

Harry steps up to where Draco hangs and lightly touches one arm sending electric sparks through both their systems. As he continues the caress up and over the shoulders and back down the other arm, Draco shivers trying to fight off his body's demands, but it proves to be a losing battle. Potter sees the growing tent of the shorts and knows he's caught the Slytherin. He runs his hands from the shoulders down the back and past the outside of the hips. The other bucks instinctively and yet still squirms in vain to get away. Harry just chuckles.

Draco tries to reason with him but it's getting harder to concentrate. "Potter, please," he finds himself panting. "Let ... go ...."

"Oh, you wish to let it go?"

Draco nods vigorously.

"Brilliant." That isn't the response he expects as Harry wandlessly banishes their clothes and steps up behind him.

"Merlin's bullocks, Scarhead! You've completely misunderstood--uuuggggh," Draco moans as Harry slides his hands around to the front, caressing the chest, placing the nipples between thumb and forefinger and tugging lightly. His soft lips kiss the bottom of his neck causing Draco to tremble in need, his head falling backwards onto Harry's shoulder, their hair mingling in a dance all their own. Harry obliges his inner instincts and licks up the soft skin of the unmarked neck to the back of one delicate ear increasing the tremors he can feel under his hands as they continue to massage that glorious flesh. The panting gets louder.

Currents of air blow by them cooling off the sweat and dousing their arousal a bit. Harry makes sure to brush his hardened member along the blond's arse cheeks as he steps away.

Draco whimpers at the loss of contact. His head maneuvers to watch the glorious backside.

"Don't you dare leave me like this, Potter!" he whines indignantly.

Sauntering over to the table cleared of dirty dishes, Harry surveys the items left on the glass: a bowl with milky, soapy water, a clean washcloth, and the jar of chile oil, all as per his instructions to the house elf. He snatches up the rectangular jar and prowls slowly back to where Draco is stationed, a predatory gleam in his eye, letting the tension simmer between them.

He takes the stopper out and pours some of the oily substance onto his fingers. Placing the vial on the ground, he kneels in front of the blond and begins to massage his calves and feet, paying particular attention to his toes. Draco twitches a little as it tickles his insteps. Harry suddenly takes one big toe into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside pad and sucking. The whole body above him jerks at the electric shock that passes up the spine. Puzzlement mixed with lust is plain on the Slytherin's face. As evidenced by his gasp when the other big toe is swallowed, Draco had not known that those could be erogenous zones. Harry is glad to introduce him to the pleasure.

Continuing onward, he moves up the thighs with surety in his firm strokes. Heat rises in both men as the deft hands glide over lean muscle until Harry, with a little smirk, squeezes Draco's buttocks. The blond moans.

Braving more action, Harry scoots around behind and puts his nose into the crack before him, darting his oral muscle out to taste. The ridges of the tightly closed hole make an intriguing texture to add to the musky smell, a little dirty too that excites him, if he admits it. He laps at the entrance hoping to loosen his new lover, making his own cock ache for attention.

"Merlin, Potter. Fuck me already!"

He halfway gives in to the demand, certainly his body wants to, and instead eats the other with abandon, his tongue flicking in and around the hole, relaxing it before further attacks to come. Draco moans appreciatively.

Thrumming with need, the Saviour of the Wizarding World continues massaging Draco's bound body, rubbing up the firm back till it glows in the sunshine; down one graceful arm, then the other; kissing the fingertips and licking seductively on the palms, which has Draco shivering uncontrollably. Doing nothing to ease the erotic torment, Harry aligns their bodies back to front and gently kisses the super-sensitive nape of fine hairs, the contact bringing heat spiraling within him. Extending the kisses along neck and jaw, he works the oil into the blond's chest, teasing over the pert nipples that appear to spark with anticipation, and gliding reverently over the large scars he had caused in Sixth Year.

As Draco strains forward in search of more touch, Harry's hands move down the abdominal plain.

"Fuck, Potter! Come on!"

"Pushy little dragon. Just hold on to your knickers, I'm almost there."

True to his word, Harry reaches down and cups the heavy sacks. _Merlin, those hairs are just as silky smooth as the one's on his head!_ He leisurely rolls them around in his palms, squeezing and pulling ever so slightly in rhythm to his own hardened member sliding against the wonderful cheeks. Both men groan as their needs double.

Finally giving into his own desires, he takes more of the oil and grabs Draco's prick. Gods, it is all he dreamed it would be, hard and velvety. Oh, so good, so right! He strokes the hard shaft, getting it all slick and glossy. Draco bucks his hips begging for more friction, which inadvertantly strokes Potter, almost undoing the black-haired hero as he gazes amazingly down at the glistening body he's wanted since forever.

Harry watches the other's face for the tug of confusion in the eyebrows that tells him when Draco begins to feel a strange tingling heat in his exposed organ, a burning never experienced before. The heat mounts as he moves his hand off the prize and back up to the nipples standing at attention. The blond wizard gasps and pants as he plucks and twists the little buds. Draco quivers non-stop now. Harry knows the heat radiating from his groin and echoing all over his skin will push the limits of arousal far beyond what Draco is accustomed. Luckily the cool breezes mitigate some of the burning or else the other wizard would be coming already.

Harry's own ardour is growing by leaps and bounds as he frots against the Slytherin's backside. He remembers intimately the flame that is now consuming his captive. Wanting that same sensation, he pours the oil onto his own aching cock, rubbing it in, letting it burn. His eyes drift close and he whimpers, too, as waves crash through him.

It takes all his willpower to stop touching himself and get back to the man at hand. The last of the oil he puts on his fingers and begins working it into Draco's hole. _Oh, Merlin, he feels tight!_ Focusing on stretching his lover, he ignores the cries from his own body.

"Uh ... pl ... please ... I don't know ... what you've done ... but I need more!"

Harry chuckles at that.

Once he has Draco crying out and shaking from hitting that special nerve bundle inside, he removes his fingers and brings them around front to hold onto the well-defined thighs. Giving him a sideways kiss, he presses into the other wizard. The tight heat steals his breath. He lets his own head fall back as he impales himself in that delicious heat. Nothing with Ginny was ever this good. He is sure heaven has nothing to rival it either.

"This is ... this is brilliant!" he pants as he tries to get his body back under control, the heat in his privates not helping any.

His lover chides him, "It would be even more bloody brilliant if you would sodding move already!"

Silently agreeing and relenting, he sets up a rocking motion that swings Draco back and forth in his bonds. He plants soft kisses on the silky neck as one hand holds steady on a pale hip and the other encircles the reddened prick. The glorious friction drives him wild and Draco's keening cries tells him his lover is flying. The flame in his nether region rises to an unbearable pitch as he nears the pinnacle of his desire. Faster and faster he pushes them toward climax.

With a shout he comes deep inside Draco, who follows him an instant later. Ecstasy flows through him as he spills his seed.

Both men pant as they come down from their high. Draco, himself satisfied, hangs there limply as Harry hugs him from behind.

Quickly, he slips away, wets the washcloth and wipes himself down. As he turns back, Draco begins shouting obscenities.

"Shite, Potter! It's burning! Agghh! Get it off! Get it off!"

He smirks at the blond's struggling form, knowing the extreme pain now roaring through his genitals, but he takes pity on his lover and wraps the cotton cloth around his cock. Instantly the flame is greatly diminished and Draco sags in relief.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

"No harm done, I assure you, just a little lesson in greed. Don't ever cross me, Draco, or I won't let it up next time."

A little residual heat remains in both of them but that is soothed by the cool water and the Mediterranean breezes. Exhausted, Draco nods his head in understanding and then falls asleep.

Harry banishes all the materials from their ordeal, spells their clothes on, and reconfigures the hammocks back to their original positions, leaving the sleeping dragon in one and climbing into the other.

With a contented sigh, he enjoys the afternoon sunshine as well as the peaceful contentment languidly residing in his breast. It will be a couple of hours yet before their wives return. Perhaps he would have this stupid, happy grin off his face by then.

~fin~  


**Author's Note:**

> The sequel is called "Waves".


End file.
